Angst! Angst! Angst!
by Suededonym
Summary: Something is seriously wrong with Castiel, and it is not what you think. Rebelling, listening to crappy music, wearing copious amounts of black... Insanity and quasi-brotherly angst will ensue. NOT a slash fic! Spoilers through Season 5
1. Chapter 1

A/N: *sigh* And one by one, the bunnies steal my sanity.

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Supernatural belongs to Kripke and Co., and the plotlines and general strangeness of this fic belong to my crackho of a muse.

* * *

If Sam and Dean hadn't been so dense, they would have recognized the signs long before they did. As it was, the wardrobe was their first real clue that something was up.

"Cas?" Sam said, interrupting the angel's lecture about the apocalypse and whatever else he was droning about.

"Yes Sam?"

"Did you get new clothes?"

Castiel looked down at himself and the new, entirely black wardrobe he was wearing. He'd even traded in the the tan trench for a long black one.

"Yes. How is that related to the omens in Kentucky?"

"It's not. It's just surprising, that's all."

Castiel frowned, lines of confusion appearing on his brow. Then he continued blah blah blahing about death and destruction.

* * *

Sam was sitting in the driver's seat of the Impala, waiting for Dean to come back with records of where the remains of Eli Pike had been interred.

"How do you make this music different?"

If the door hadn't been closed, Sam was sure he would have fallen out of the chair.

"Cas! What, uh, what are you doing here?"

Castiel gave him a forlorn look while fiddling with the radio.

"Where else would I be? It is not like I can occupy my time with searching for God. He has made it clear he doesn't care."

With that, Cas found the station he was searching for. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat in contentment.

"Seriously? My Chemical Romance?"

Castiel's eyes popped open.

"Judge not, lest ye be judged." He quipped, then vanished.

Sam sat in a cloud of confusion and emo music.

* * *

Dean was the one who found it. It was lying in plain sight on one of the hotel beds, all innocent-like. Dean picked it up and examined it.

"Dean, why do you have that?"

Dean jumped, absurdly feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Is this yours?" He asked.

Castiel took it from Dean's hand.

"Yes. Why do you have it?"

"It was just lying on the bed. I thought it was Sam's."

Cas frowned. That seemed to be his default expression these days.

"It's mine. Don't touch it again."

And with that he was gone, taking the ipod with him.

* * *

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Well? What's wrong with Cas? Can the boys figure it out? Where did he get an ipod?

Tune in next time to find out! Same crack!time, same crack!channel!

Seriously people, reviews will make me write faster.


	2. An Explanation From an Unlikely Source

"Hello, Dean."

Castiel sat sprawled out on the floor, a large pile of empty bottles sharing the space with him. As Dean watched, Cas picked one of them up and attempted to drink.

"Why is my rum gone?"

A strange look passed over Cas's face and his shoulders hitched, like he had hiccuped. Dean knew what was coming.

"Here, if you have to yak, yak in this." He said, snagging an ice bucket from the the motel dresser.

Castiel threw up. A lot.

"Why?" He moaned. "Please ask the floor to stop spinning. I have no des-_hurk!_-desire to fall off."

With a groan, Cas closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall.

Dean considered for a moment, then went into a bathroom and filled a dixe cup with tapwater.

"Here. Rinse your mouth out or it'll taste like ass in the morning."

Castiel cracked one eye open and accepted the paper cup.

"Rum?" He asked feebly.

"No more rum for you, ever. Binge drinking sounds fun in theory, but the reality-"

"Don't tell me what to do." Cas snapped, tossing the still half-full cup of water in Dean's direction. He missed by about four feet, which was pretty terrible considering that his target was standing no less than two feet in front of him.

"You're not my Father." Cas spat. "My Father doesn't tell me what to do and you're not my Father so you can't tell me what to do even less." He squinted, trying to figure out if that statement made sense.

And then he promptly passed out.

Dean sighed and propped him up close to the puke bucket. The angel snored lightly.

Dean sighed again, and then made the call.

* * *

"Why is it that every time you fellas screw up, you call me in to fix it?"

"I just want some information." Dean countered. "Is this normal? Is this part of falling or something?"

"Look at you, all concerned about the consequences of you actions all of the sudden." The Trickster (Gabriel, Dean reminded himself, Gabriel) walked in a slow semicircle around Dean.

"_My_ actions? He chose to rebel."

"He chose to follow you, numbnuts." Gabriel stopped pacing. "For your information, this one isn't your fault."

Dean tried not to look relieved.

"No, you can chalk this one up to the Creator."

"You lost me."

"Do you know how old your angel buddy is? No? He's young. By angel standards, he's pretty darn young."

"How young?" Dean asked.

"Pimples and awkward growth spurts young. Congratulations, you've got a teenager on your hands!" Gabriel announced with mock glee.

Dean processed this.

"And he was sent into battle anyway? To Hell?! What kind of 'loving' father uses child soldiers?"

Gabriel arched an eyebrow at him.

"Your daddy for one." He replied.

Dean glared. After a moment, he let the jibe go. Punching the Trickster in the jaw might have made him feel better, but Dean recognized that it would be a really stupid move.

"How do I make him stop being all...you know, weird?"

"You can't. You'll just have to wait this one out."

Dean glared again. Gabriel caved.

"Look, I'll give you my number. If you need some support, give me a call."

"I thought you were done with your family."

It was Gabriel's turn to glare.

"You know nothing about me, got it? Don't even begin to pretend you do."

With a snap of his fingers, he was gone.

"Well that was helpful."

* * *

"We're very sorry for your loss." Sam said, handing the woman another tissue. "Are there any more details you can tell us, anything that springs to mind?"

The woman didn't answer. She seemed to be fixated on Castiel's face, which was twitching like mad.

"Agent Marley, are you okay?" Sam asked, using the alias the Cas had chosen. They shared a look.

"I have to get outside. Now."

Sam quickly apologized to the woman and led Cas out of the crappy apartment.

"That way." Cas said, pointing to an empty alleyway. He was sweating.

"What's wrong? Are you okay? What's going on?"

Cas was busy trying to untangle himself from his coat. Sam moved forward to help.

"No! Go away!" Castiel shouted at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Leave me alone."

Cas _whooshed_ away before Sam could ask him anything else.

Left alone, Sam called his brother.

* * *

"Woah." Sam was in awe. He had never seen Castiel's wings before. They looked like shadow made solid, and were taking up most of the motel room. Cas stretching and scratching at them.

"I am sorry I fled so abruptly." He said to Sam. "As you can see, I was...compromised. I don't know how to hide them again." With the conclusion of this speech, he returned to clawing at where his wings met his back.

"Itchy." He explained.

Dean snapped his phone shut.

"According to the Tri- Gabriel, it's the angelic incarnation of acne. He says not to scratch."

"And why should we trust anything he says?" Castiel asked, grabbing a sawed off shotgun and using it as a backscratcher.

"We'll pick up some calamine lotion for you or something on out way back from the hunt."

"Why can't I come?" Castiel sounded petulant.

Dean planted his face in his hand.

"I'm not dealing with this."

"You don't understand my suffering!"

* * *

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A/N: Can it get worse? You bet MWAHAHAHA!

I would like to thank my reviewers for taking the time to comment and for giving me a kick in the pants when it comes to writing.


	3. Warning Signs

Chapter 3

* * *

"I hate you."

Dean sighed. He was doing a lot of that lately.

"Why do you hate me, Cas?"

"I just _do_, okay?"

Another sigh.

"Okay."

* * *

Castiel had acquired a taste for heavy metal with choir solos in it.

Sam wanted to hunt down the bands and kill them.

Cas turned his music up.

* * *

"No! No, no no no no and hell no!"

Cas continued to look at him defiantly.

"I draw the line at skinny jeans! You look like a chick."

"Nobody understands meee!"

* * *

"Here, this is a journal. Put all your delicate feelings in there so I don't have to hear about them!"

"You're the one who is always telling me to express emotions. You suck! And this journal says 'Diary' on the front! I'm not using it.

Sigh.

* * *

"You need to wake up now."

Still no response.

"I get that you're tired and you need more sleep to help adjust to the changes you're going through, but you really need to wake up now."

Nothing.

"Cas? Please please please please open your eyes."

Still nothing. Shaking him didn't work, pouring ice water on him hadn't worked, shouting hadn't worked. Dean was reduced to pleading, even if that too was useless. Cas had just complained of being tired, gone to sleep, and still hadn't come out of it.

"We need some help."

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Reviewers are the best people in the world, and you all get a virtual cookie for being so awesome :D


	4. Hurricane

DISCLAIMER: I do not own_ Supernatural _or _Elf_. If I did, would I be writing fanfiction?

A/N: Not only do readers get virtual cookies this time, you all get rainbow ice cream too for being so patient.

I have no idea what the Trickster's dog was called in Tall Tales, but I'm calling him Roscoe. Why? Because I am the author and I just can.

This chapter came out a lot gooey-er than intended. So here is your giant helping of daily angst:

* * *

Chapter 4 

The phone was a work of art. Truly. It was, of course, his own design. Flashy and just tacky enough to blend into the background of his 'Batcave'. 

Roscoe barked for his attention. The dog was not his own design. Instead of just wiling Roscoe into existence, he had adopted the abused pup from the local animal shelter. It might have been amusing to have a dog that shot lasers out of it's eyes or transformed into a robot, but there was something ... companionable in having a real dog. 

Roscoe barked again, demanding his master's attention. 

"What is it boy?" Gabriel offered him another treat. He knew he was spoiling the dog, but it was hard not to. 

Roscoe accepted the treat as the phone began to ring. 

"Buddy the elf, what's your favorite color?" 

"What the fu-?" 

"Deano! How's tricks? Got another mess you want me to clean up?" 

There was a pause on the other end. 

"I think there's something wrong with Cas." 

"There is a long list of thing that are wrong with Cas. The intense staring thing for one. Two, he doesn't like ice cream. Have you ever met anyone who doesn't like ice cream? He's clearly insane!" 

"You know what I mean." A weary sigh came through the mouthpiece. "He's sleeping." 

"That's your big emergency?" Gabriel would never admit it, but at that moment he felt a tiny spark of something that might have been relief. "He probably need a good nap, being dragged after you two chuckleheads all the time. Mojo alone isn't enough to keep him going now." 

"Oh. That make sense, sort of. Any estimates as to how long before he comes out of it? Because it's been four days already and-" 

"FOUR DAYS?" Gabriel thundered. 

Roscoe ran for the cover of the couch. 

"YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT YOU WAITED **FOUR DAYS **BEFORE TELLING ME THAT HE MIGHT BE IN DANGER?" 

Gabriel was losing it; wind whipping through the room. 

"Where are you?!" 

"Woah woah woah woah. No way in hell am I giving you our location!" 

"Dean, listen to me." His voice was calm now, but it was the calm of the eye in a hurricane. "I need you to tell me where you are so I can find my IDIOT OF A BROTHER!" 

On the other side of the country, Dean held his cell at arm's length. 

"Anderson Hotel, Austin, Texas. Room number-" 

"I'm here." 

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin. 

"Don't do that!" Dean snapped. 

Gabriel was examining Cas for any obvious signs of injury. 

"What was he doing when he passed out?" Gabriel asked, interrupting Dean's tirade about angels and personal space. 

The hunter took a step back. 

"Uh, we were getting some info for a case and out of the blue he told Sam he was tired. A few minutes later we got in the car and he collapsed in the back seat." 

"What were you hunting?" Gabriel asked sharply. 

"Just a routine haunt, nothing that could have done this." 

Gabriel lifted Castiel's eyelid to look at the pupils. Dean was oddly reminded of doing the same, years ago when Sam had received a concussion. 

"He really does seem to be just sleeping." The archangel sighed. After a moment's deliberation, he placed a hand on Castiel's forehead. The lines of tension and worry melted away and Cas shifted, muttering a little happy sleeptalking nonsense. 

Dean didn't dare move, afraid of intruding on the moment. 

"He wasn't always such a grump, you know." Gabriel smiled down at Cas's sleeping form. "Once upon a time he had a sense of humor. We were quite the team back in the day." He paused, as if remembering. "He looked up to me, you know? Toddled after me like a puppy, always gibbering away and asking _why_." Gabriel pitched his voice to imitate a high pitched squeak. 

"Gabriel, why do birds sing? Gabriel, why is Zachariah so grouchy? Gabirel, when is Dad coming home? Can I meet him? Does he love me?" Gabriel chuckled unexptectedly. "And he always got my jokes, laughed at them even when they weren't that funny. We even used to plan pranks together. Sometimes I wonder-" He cut himself off verbably, but he couldn't help finish that train of thought. 

_'Sometimes I wonder if that's why he follows you, why he obeys you so readily. Do you remind him of me? When he looks at you does he remember his big brother?'_ Pointless wondering. 

Dean had the sudden mental image of a six year old-looking Cas trailing after a nine year old-looking Gabriel and poking things with sticks the way Sam did did he was little. 

"It was my fault he got turned all serious." Gabriel mused. Upon seeing Dean's questioning face, he elaborated. 

"We were pulling a prank on Zachariah. The, ah, equivalent of putting a flaming bag of dog waste on someone's doorstep. Cas got caught and refused to rat me out." Gabriel closed his eyes. "I didn't step up to take any of the blame. Zachariah didn't take being pranked very well. Nasty temper." 

His eyes popped open. "After that he started following Uriel and his gang. Dropped me like a hot potato. All my own doing, of course." 

"Wow, you almost sound like you care." It was a friendly sentiment, but it definitely came out wrong. 

Gabriel threw Dean an angry look. 

"You know what? Forget it. Forget this whole conversation ever happened." With a snap of his fingers, he erased Dean's memory of the past minutes. 

"So is he going to be okay?" Dean asked. 

"He'll come out of it in a few hours." The archangel answered. 

Then, "Take better care of him. He needs sleep and regular meals. Make sure he gets them." Another snap of fingers and he was gone. 

Dean relaxed, his shoulders sagging a bit. No matter how personable a persona he put on, the Trickster still scared the crap out of him. 

From the bathroom doorway, Sam appeared. 

"Woah." He said. 

Dean threw him a questioning glance. 

"Did you hear all of what he just said?" 

"He just said Cas will be fine. What's the big deal?" 

Sam huffed. 

"Guess he forgot to mindwipe me. S'not my place to tell, but Gabriel might care more than we thought." 

"Gabriel? Nah, all he cares about is getting his jollies at the expense of the average shlub. Come on, we have to change locations. Help me get Cas to the car." 

In his sleep, Castiel smiled.  
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There will be more funny and less actual angst in the next chapter, I promise.


	5. A Battle to the Death

Disclaimer: I do not own the show or characters, just an imagination on acid.

WARNINGS: One bad word and mutilation of a vegetable.

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"No."

That was Castiel's new favorite word. At least, that was Dean's theory. This theory was supported by the teen angel's constant use of it.

"Yes." Dean countered, pushing the plate back the way it had come.

"No." That was Cas's rebuttal. The strategy seemed to work for him, because the plate of food on the diner table was still utterly untouched.

"Suck it up, grow a pair and eat your damn vegetables."

Castiel made a face, and Dean could clearly see he was thinking 'A pair of what?'. Cas didn't say it out loud though. Instead he turned to Sam for support. The younger Winchester was sitting beside him in the booth, polishing off the last of his salad.

Sam tried to ignore Cas's pleading face. _'Dean was right; whatever you do, don't look at the puppy eyes!'_

Sam broke and faced the full force of the awesome might of puppy-power.

"I'm going to go with Dean on this. The Tri - _Gabriel_ asked us to take care of you. That means eating everything on your plate, including the vegatables."

"No."

Dean sighed. Sam registered that he had been doing that a lot lately.

Cas pushed the plate across the table towards Dean again.

"No."

Dean sagged, jump starting a memory in Sam's brain.

"Hey Dean? Why don't you just do what you did when I was a kid?"

Dean looked at him blankly. Sam continued.

"You know, when dad was out and I didn't want to eat until he came home? That thing with the ... sound effects."

Something sparked in Dean's eyes.

"Yeah, I remember that. I'm not doing it in public though."

Dean cast a glance over at the waitress he had been making eyes at all night. No way was he going to do the sound effect thing in public, not with an adult. He looked back to magnified effect of two pairs of puppy-eyes.

"You guys suck." He announced.

"Do you really want to tell Gabriel that we failed taking care of his little brother in the most basic capacity?" Sam prodded him.

Dean sighed yet again and stole Sam's fork.

"Okay, this is how it goes." He started, staring at broccoli in an attempt at avoiding eye contact. "There is a tournament going on, like the kind in karate movies that don't involve Japanese school girls."

Cas tilted his head. Dean went on, making good on his internal promise not to look at anyone.

"This guy-" Dean speared the broccoli on Sam's fork. "- is a real contender. He might actually be able to win this thing."

"Who is he competing against?" Castiel asked, eyes wide.

"He is competing against ... this carrot. During the first round at least. But it's not about winning, it's about not losing."

"I don't understand."

Dean looked up.

"The consequence of losing is getting mashed to pieces and dragged down to a pit of no return. Like the Sarlacc in Star Wars."

"I remember that part." Dean had showed him this 'masterpiece of cinematic history'. It had taken a whole week to get Cas to stop carrying around a light saber in public.

"Right, so, they have to fight. The loser gets chomped and the winner goes on to the next round. And so on and so on until only one remains."

"High stakes." Cas said, his whole attention captured.

Dean cringed. Gabriel had better appreciate the level of dedication he was about to go to. He speared the chosen carrot on his own fork and held it beside the broccoli, then tilted them slightly towards each other.

"Bowing." He elaborated for his audience. Then he made the veggies attack. With sound effects.

"Hiya! Ho! Arrgh! Wham! Ka-chop!"

At the end of it, the broccoli was triumphant.

"What now?"

"Now," said Dean "Now the loser is destroyed."

"Brutal." Commented Sam.

Dean held the carrot up for Cas to 'punish'. Understanding dawned on the latter's face.

"The only other alternative is a lifetime of banishment and dishonor."

Delicately, Cas chewed and ate the carrot.

"Who does the broccoli fight next?"

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END

Temporarily. Thank you to everyone who put up with waiting so long!


	6. Lost Puppies

A/N

The next few chapters will mostly be lighthearted and cracky fun, but I'm in a mood today, so this is the chapter you get.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, not even a sense of rhythm.

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Sam groaned and rolled over in bed. It had been a long day and he'd been looking forward to passing out for the next twelve hours at the very least. Through bleary eyes he could see that he'd only gotten four of those sweet hours before whoever was calling him had decided to disrupt his well earned beauty sleep. 

According to the display, 'Axytphol' was calling. Which meant it was Cas. Cas, who still did not understand how cell phones worked or what was an acceptable hour to call people. 

"What?" Sam was too tired for manners. 

He got a sniff for an answer. 

For one moment, Sam had the bizzare thought that a dog was on the other end of the line, though he didn't know how a dog would have mangaged to call him. Speed dial, probably. 

"'Z anybody there? Cas?" 

"Sam." 

Oh brother. Castiel's voice was small and meek sounding, something that Sam had never, ever heard before. 

"What'sa matter?" 

More sniffing. Hang on, it sounded like- 

"Cas, are you crying?" 

"_No._" 

That was all the answer Sam needed. 

"Where are you? Are you hurt?" Sam sat up in bed and began to pull his pants on. "We'll be there as soon as we can." 

"NO!" 

"Cas, you aren't making any sense." 

"Don't call me that." His voice was a little less wobbly now. "My name is Castiel. Not Cas, not Tiel, Castiel. I don't want Dean to see me like this." 

"O-kay? What's wrong." 

"I hurt." 

"Oh god. How bad is it? Can you get to a hospital?" 

"No. I hurt ... inside. A lot. I - I can't breathe, Sam." 

"Okay, take deep slow breaths. Can you tell me where you are?" 

Castiel rattled off some co-ordinates. Sam was booting up his laptop to check them when Dean stirred. 

"'S'amatter?" 

"Nothing serious. I have to go see Cas, but I'll be back as soon as I can. Go to sleep." 

Dean rolled over and brought a pillow against his face to shield it from the bluish light of the laptop screen. 

"- my father gave me my name." Cas was saying into his ear through the cell phone. Sam had almost forgotten he was still on the line. 

"It looks about two hours away from here. Can you hold on that long?" 

Castiel mumbled a sure and Sam promised to be there as soon as he could. Sam hesitated over his bag for a moment, wondering if he should take any additional weapons. Finally he decided that whatever was in the Impala's trunk would likely be more than enough. With one last look at Dean's peacefully sleeping form, Sam set out to help his friend. 

He ended up worrying enough during the drive to call Cas and check up on him. Convinced that the former angel was not in any extreme danger, Sam relaxed and enjoyed the nighttime drive. He had always preferred the night to the day. Night was safe for him, hiding him as well as any other secrets in the velvet sky. 

He had to pull over to the side of the road when he got close to the coordinates Castiel had givien him. It would be a ten minute or less walk, but he was still aprehensive about leaving the car unattended out in the middle of nowhere. 

Eleven minutes later Sam came across the place Cas had described to him. Only it wasn't there anymore. To be more accurate, it _had_ been there, but then it had been destroyed. Sam gazed in awe at the wreakage of the cottage. The foundation was still there, but everything else had been blown to smithereens. It looked like something very powerful had thrown a temper tantrum. Which, Sam realized, was probably pretty accurate, because there in the rubble was Castiel. He sat very still, with his head bent and his arms wrapped around his knees. 

"Cas-tiel?" Sam paused in the middle of the name before catching himself. 

Cas looked up at him and there were ovious tear tracks on his face. Castiel himself seemed to catch this as he rubbed his face with a sleeve to get rid of the evidence. 

"You came." 

Sam picked through the destruction, carefull of his footing. He had no desire to get tetnus. 

"Of course I did." He crouched across from the despondant figure. "Do you want to tell me who did this?" 

"I did." Cas sounded misereble. Sam's eyebrows shot up. 

"You did this? Why?" 

"I was angry." 

"And?" 

Fresh tears manifested at this prompt. 

"And I can't keep my eyes from watering." 

Sam had never had the chance to be a big brother, not really. With a pang, he realized that was another thing his dad had kept from him with the lack of information about Adam. Sam thought he would have liked to try being a big brother. Maybe then he would have some sort of reference for the situation. 

"What made you angry?" 

Cas glared, not at Sam, but straight ahead at some enemy in his mind's eye. 

"They cut it down." 

Sam hoped he would start making sense soon. 

"Anna's tree." Cas elaborated. "The one that her grace nurtured." 

_Oh.  
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Castiel continued.

"It was a beautiful tree. Anyone near it could feel her spirit, even after her grace was moved. It was a special tree and they just _cut it down_. Like it was worthless!"

_Oh._ Sam's heart gave a little pang. The former angel just looked so little, all balled up like that. Little and vunerable and so, so alone. Which was weird because Castiel was inhabiting the vessel of a grown man, probably older than Sam. _Appearances are deceiving_, Sam reminded himself.

"Is that why you destroyed the house?"

Cas scrubbed his face with the palms of his hands.

"Yes. That is why I destroyed this place." He looked at Sam, looking for him to understand. "I wanted to smite them; the people that did it. But I do not want to hurt people, not really. So I took out my wrath on this place. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you had to drive out here. I've expended a great deal of my 'mojo' as you call it and I'm tired. I'm very tired."

Sam scooched up closer to sit beside Cas and to wrap an arm around his shoulder. Cad startled at the contact and Sam remembered the disgust that angels had displayed when it came to touching him. After the intial twitch, Cas seemed to relax though.

"You miss your sister."

"It hurts." Cas said pathetically.

"I undertand." Sam offered.

"How do I make it stop?"

"I don't know."

They sat for a very long time like that.

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"We need to pick out a birthday for you." Dean annouced suddenly a few days later.

"Why?" Cas gave his patented head tilt. Dean sighed.

"Because we don't have that many occasions to celebrate."

Cas looked at him without blinking until Dean turned his head away. Sam, who had been watching the whole thing saw the smile that touched Cas's face as he won that staring contest. He fought the urge to laugh.

"Whatever. Dinner's on me tonight. Pizza, right?"

Sam nodded, and Cas gave a thumbs up, a gesture he was still working on. Dean left.

Sam looked up from the research he was doing on protective rituals, wondering if now would be the right time. It was made easier by Dean unwittingly intruducing the topic.

"Hey, Castiel?"

"Yes?"

Sam hesitated, wondering how Castiel would interpert what he was about to do.

"I got something for you."

Sam twisted in his seat to grab the gift from the pocket of his jacket, which was lying on the bed behind him. They really needed to upgrade to larger motel rooms.

"You didn't need to get me anything." Cas's tone was flat as usual, but there was curiousity plain on his features.

"Uh, I hope you like it." Sam said, awkwardly holding out the object. Sam wasn't as good at this emotional crap as Dean thought he was. Now that he thought about it, this whole thing seemed borderline offensive.

"Sam, is this waht I think it is?"

Castiel was looking down at the pocket-sized picture frame with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Yeah. I go the picture online, so the quality isn't that great, but I thought..." Sam trailed off and then plowed through the rest of the speech. "I thought you might want a reminder. We had a picture of Jo and Ellen, but we burned it, since there really wasn't a way to give them a proper funeral. But I thought you might want a ... something to remember by."

Castiel took the carved object from Sam.

"Did you make this yourself?"

Sam chuckled a bit, relieved at Cas's acceptance.

"I have the splinters to prove it."

Cas ran a finger along the frame arround Anna's portrait.

"This wood is from her tree."

"Yeah, it was kind of hard ot get ahold of..."

Castiel smiled at him. It was a startling change.

"Thank you."

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Since I'm so terrible with updates, I'll give you the summary of the next chapter now:

"Dean grows obsessive about throwing Cas a birthday party. Because it is his first party, Dean decides that it must be celebrated in stlye - meaning at ChuckeCheese. And with party hats and Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey."

I am also totally willing to accept prompts for this story. Any insanity you suggest will be taken into consideration.


	7. Hammer Time!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but a schedule that I wouldn't wish on anyone.

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Castiel was having a pleasant dream. This was surprising to him in multiple ways. First, angels didn't dream. Second, when the not-quite-an-angel-anymore did dream, his subconscious usually manifested itself in the form of nightmares. As a rule, Castiel didn't like dreaming.

This time, however, his brain had scrambled an almost coherent scene at a green place he recognized as a park.

"Have some more pie, Uriel!" Anna urged, shoving a piece across the picnic blanket. It was blueberry pie, and Castiel thought it was delicious. Uriel shrugged and helped himself to another pastry. Farther away, Raphael and Gabriel were tossing a Frisbee back and forth. Castiel laughed when Raph dived to catch the disk and wound up with a faceful of dirt. To laugh felt good, and so Castiel laughed some more. Anna joined in his laughter and somehow that made things even _more_ funny. Casitel fell on his side laughing, gripping his belly and kicking his feet in amusement. That was when the singing started.

"_Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! You look like a monkey and you smell like one too!_"

Castiel opened his eyes to see Sam and Dean Winchester grinning down at him. Well, Dean was grinning and Sam had a facial expession that Dean would refer to as a 'bitchface'.

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it goes, Dean." Sam huffed.

"Cas thinks its funny."

Castiel realized that he was still laughing slightly. He stopped.

"Why were you singing to me?"

The brothers shared a look.

"Because Dean here has arbitrarily picked today as your birthday."

Castiel frowned in confusion and sat up, legs dangling over the edge of the hotel cot.

"Because today is Thursday and you're the angel of Thursday." Sam said, fleshing out the explanation.

"Your timing is very accurate." Castiel commended.

Dean figured that was as close to a 'thank you' as he would get.

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Castiel was frowning again. He was thinking of the best way to phrase the uncomfortable truth he knew someone had to point out.

"I'm a little old to be going to a Chuck-E-Cheese, even by Heaven's standards." He said sulkily.

Dean protested, something about skeeball, but Sam sided with the not-quite-angel and so Castiel was spared the trauma of having to listen to an animatronic mouse the size of a man sing about whatever the hell animatronic mice sing about. Poor Ricky Stevens, the eleven year old boy inside the restaurant having his birthday party would not be so lucky.

"If not Chucky then where?"

Castiel fiddled with the ridiculous paper cone hat Dean had made him wear. It didn't help much that the other men were wearing hats too. AT least theirs didn't have pom-poms.

"England." He decided. "While on my search for - for God, I saw some places I thought I might have wanted to return to someday if they were still there..." Castiel trailed off, aware that he was losing that train of thought.

Dean looked stricken at the thought of flying an a transatlantic flight. Sam gave some reasonable explanations while Dean stammered in fear.

"In case you forgot, dead men don't fly coach. And you don't have any ID or anything so its not like you could get onto a plane either."

Castiel grinned. It still unnerved Dean when he did that. Without a word, he reached out and grabbed Sam and Dean's forearms. A moment later, they were gone.

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"Hey man, I'm sorry about earlier. This was the best idea you ever had." Dean slurred his way through an apology, cheeks pink with cold and inebriation.

Sam smiled as the world tilted and the streetlamps blurred into an array of falling stars. He didn't realize he was falling until Dean was standing him upright again. Cas giggled. He was still waring his party hat, but now it was at a strange angle and he was sure that it would slip off his head at any moment. They had tried to do the math; how many drinks to a normal person would have the same effect on Cas? Sam was the one who figured out the ratio to be somewhere around seven to one and the fallen angel was still nowhere as drunk as the Winchester brothers.

England, he had decided, was a wonderful place. All it took was one "Its my birthday today!" and seemingly everyone wanted to buy him a drink.

Cas looked up at a streetlamp and had the wonderful idea of climbing it. This was, in fact, far too easy and so he swung upside-down, holding on with his knees.

"Look, I'm a lightbulb!"

Dean and Sam found this so funny that they fell over themselves laughing.

"Oy! What're you boys up to?"

Dean was the one who figured out that the man addressing them was a cop. He stood, brushing himself off. Sam thought about it and reasoned that he was better off staying where he was, even if the sidewalk was a little chilly.

"I said, what are you boys doing? Not causing trouble I hope?"

The police officer had a flashlight and Dean decided that he didn't like the man shining it in his face.

"No sir, officer sir. We've just been out celebrating a friend's birthday."

Amazingly, the officer hadn't noticed Cas hanging upside-down from the lightpost. Cas reached down, fingers inching towards the man's hat.

"You're a bobby!" Sam blurted. Everyone turned to look at him. "We have a friend called Bobby but he's not a bobby, I mean cop. Heheh. He's awesome!"

The police officer turned from Sam to his apparently more sober brother.

"Been drinking?" He asked dryly.

Cas was millimeters away from the officer's hat. He stretched himself just a little bit more...

"Bobby sounds like booby!" Sam shouted, face pinched with happiness at his clever wordplay.

"You are one stupid drunk." Dean said.

The cop sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, not noticing the slight shift of weight on his head.

"Right then. Just try to stay out of trouble, eh?"

"Yes sir, officer sir."

"That's too many sirs, Dean! _You're _a stupid stupid!"

The cop gave Sam an odd look and walked off. These guys weren't worth any trouble.

Cas dropped down from his perch, landing in a tangled heap on the ground. In his hands was his hard earned treasure; the police man's hat. He placed it at a jaunty angle on his head.

"This is the best birthday ever!"

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A/N In case anyone is curious, I've decided that they were celebrating in Bristol.


End file.
